


Masterpiece

by rainbowslovehl (Larrymateforlife)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Harry, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Fluff, It's cheesy, M/M, Meet-Cute, Miscommunication, Tattoo Artist Louis, Teacher Harry, like so much my god, slightly because what would be my fic without that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larrymateforlife/pseuds/rainbowslovehl
Summary: Harry stared at his phone for five minutes, waiting for a response before giving up. He scrolled through instagram for a while but nothing caught his fancy. He sighed deeply, glancing up for a second before looking at his phone again then blinked.Wait a second...Harry’s head snapped up quickly and he did a double take because this guy surely hadn’t been there the last time Harry had checked the place. No, this person was new and beautiful and different and Harry was pretty sure he was openly gaping at him.Harry is unwillingly dragged to an art gallery by Niall and his evening turns out better than he expected when he meets Louis. Featuring bad pickup lines and ample flirting.





	Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 28th!  
> Um if you're an art lover, please please do not be offended because there is a lot of criticism about snooty art lovers but that's not my opinion or anything. I do not understand art and neither does Harry in this fic so I'm so sorry. I did do a little bit research and looked up keywords and all so that's all the information I have. If there's any misrepresentation, it's all my fault and I'm sorry and you can [ correct me. ](http://rainbowsandlovehl.tumblr.com/)  
> Moving forward.  
> This is the first thing I've completed after going through a major writer's block and despression so if it's bad, please be nice anyway :) There is a surprise in the fic you won't expect hehe. I think.  
> This is for my girl Ammu basically, who has been patiently listening about my writing woes lately. Awfully grateful for my beta, who read over and corrected this fic so quickly, i owe you so much love.  
> This is a complete work of fiction and does not depict my views on any subject. Sadly, I do not know the boys as well so.  
> Hope you all enjoy!

 

They say art was subjective and difficult to judge. Or shouldn’t be judged. Either way, Harry was not well versed in judging the merit of artwork, paintings and all, so he would be the worst person to describe what the painting in front of him looked like. After all he hadn’t taken Art History and wasn’t art lover. Another thing was that he didn’t like this form of art and if given a choice, he wouldn’t come here to see this.

But if he was to say what he did think the painting was like, he’d say it looked like various geometric shapes had been in a car crash and were slowly merging into one. There was no other way he’d describe the artwork, and yet there were many choice words that could be used to describe the work. The painting, according to the ‘authentic’ art lovers around him, was a beautiful blend of muted and vibrant colours that created a serene atmosphere. The colours and emotions and how it made them feel was all they were saying and he couldn’t even see all that. Then there was talk about the unique brushstroke and the blend and Harry had zoned out by that point, too tired to learn the pretentious definitions. Hence, geometric shapes in a car crash... It would be the perfect title indeed.

But then, he was standing on the outskirts of a group of middle-aged art lovers and young hipsters who were basically salivating over the work. He sighed, taking a step back and letting his eyes sweep over the length of the wall. There were more paintings with a similar geometric theme, abundance of colour and usually formed a bigger shape or picture. It would be pleasing to look at. Harry loved shapes. He would love to watch this one for a few more minutes too, but the problem was with the pretentious people who were after decoding what the picture ‘said’, what the ‘colours denoted’ and derived meanings when Harry just couldn’t. That threw him off, made his lips settle into a frown as he remembered just why he wasn’t the biggest fan of contemporary art. This was supposed to be minimalistic form of art, with major geometric themes from the multiple glances Harry had thrown around the room in general. Niall had called this exhibition one of the popular forms of art that was growing and inspiring many other artists. Harry would very much like to slap him. Not for the information, no, but for dragging him here and then abandoning him to fend for himself. He found himself utterly lost, hanging on to a group of people who were led by his friend. Niall was stood in the front of the same crowd actually, beside a thin, tall lady that was hanging to his every pretentious word. Harry couldn’t hear what he did say but he could assume that was what he was talking about, as he was describing the painting to her and trying to sell it. Harry wanted to roll his eyes but then, Niall was doing his job and that included getting rich people to buy art. He was an art consultant and from what he had heard, was a good one at that. Harry had no clue what and how he did it. But he was the one who had taken art history, praised and studied it and now was recommending art too. It consisted of more, but like always, Harry tended to zone out when stuff got technical.

All right, he may be called a bad friend for not listening to his friend’s hobbies and occupation, but then, Niall was clearly the worst friend between the two of of them.

In conclusion, Niall was the worst friend and would have to be demoted from his ‘best friend’ position.

It was on Monday that Niall had announced that he would be going someplace and Harry would have to tag along. There was no way out, he insisted. Harry had a history of sitting at home during weekends while binge watching Netflix and baking cookies. He was somewhat happy with that routine, even if Niall was displeased. Hence Niall, his best friend and flatmate, insisted to the point of being bothersome and Harry had to give in and wear his best clothes and leave his flat for once in the blue moon. He wasn’t told where they were headed and naturally, Harry assumed it would be either some fancy party or the pub nearby. So as he rifled through his clothes, he decided to wear his less worn, third date outfit that  hadn’t been worn in the past five months. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He was wearing a blue blouse that he had read was pale turquoise in colour and was made of a slightly sparkly but sheer material, with an elaborate bow on the front. It didn’t look sheer from afar, but under the right light, one could see Harry’s tattoos and they could be seen now in a place that was not appropriate to be showing tattoos. He was also wearing cream trousers that fit just right around the bum, complete with his special rainbow bee Gucci shoes. Sure it was too fancy an outfit but it was his ‘getting laid classily’ outfit, so of course it was. It might be fancy enough to wear in this place, if his blouse wasn’t sheer. So right now, he also looked a little slutty, eye catching and garnering disdain from most people. And unwanted appreciation as well. He was simply in the wrong place.

The realisation made him quite sad. He even styled his hair in a quiff, which was falling apart in the car itself because his hair had the sudden urge to curl that night. It was alright though because Harry still looked decent, fuckable even and Niall wolf whistled the moment he stepped out of his room. He didn’t advice Harry against it, so naturally he thought he was dressed appropriate enough for whatever event they were headed to. Well, that's obviously where he went wrong. Because Niall couldn’t be trusted.

Niall kept driving, not answering even one of Harry’s queries and when he did park and point towards their destination, he smirked while Harry gasped. Niall had probably interpreted it as the good type of a gasp, like when you do in happy surprise but it wasn’t that one. Harry was horrified, terrified and slightly annoyed as he looked down at his sheer blouse and up at Niall, who was getting out of the car without a second glance. He thought Niall was a friend but he didn’t know the first thing about Harry as a person. Harry might be a kindergarten teacher who loved to teach little kids to paint and he might be an avid photographer, but that didn’t make him a lover of all forms of art. Not at all. Niall should have known. But obviously that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part still was that Niall had abandoned him as soon as they had stepped into the place, waving goodbye and marched away. He didn’t throw him a second glance and Harry felt lost and out of place, with people judging his clothes and standing alone in the middle of the room.

It was an exhibit of some famous artist, as he had inferred yet Niall let him make a fool of himself. He was totally clueless hence he followed Niall like a lost puppy, in the back of the group that he had formed. And his friend hadn’t even thrown Harry a single glance in the past twenty minutes of this. Yet he had got  pointed gazes, disapproving glances and a few appreciative looks from older ladies Harry had no interest in. But he was still thankful for the free champagne and cupcakes that were going around; the only good thing really. But in conclusion, Niall was the worst friend and would have to be demoted from his ‘best friend’ position.

Unfortunately, Niall was his ride home. Liam was at work-- that lucky bastard, and unable to help Harry out. It was sad but he had no other friends. Liam expressed his sympathies, all too knowing of Niall’s secret keeping and meddling habits. He replied when Harry sent him messages randomly, stepping out of the group when the speeches got too long.

**These people act as if they haven’t seen tattoos before.**

_Well Harry, you are displaying all of the ones you have right now. But even then, the glares are unwarranted, I agree._

_Can’t you take a cab back home?_

**Oh I so want to. But if I spent the last of my money on a cab then I wouldn’t be able to buy those powdered donuts on my way home and I really want them. I’m running low on cash and can’t afford to spend when I can save.**

_Hmm. It sucks then._

Harry pursed his lips and looked up at the sound of Niall’s loud and familiar cackle. Niall’s eyes darted towards Harry for a second and the latter made sure to glare. It was satisfying how he faltered in his speech before looking away and pretending that nothing had happened. Harry huffed at his glare being ignored and himself too, keeping his eyes fixed on his friend. It was five minutes of intense staring before Niall gave in, a displeased tilt to his mouth as he excused himself from his client, some rich lady called Mrs. Fields and made his way over to Harry. He looked mildly annoyed, as if Harry was the one being a bother and like Niall hadn’t been the one to trap him in this situation in the first place. Honestly.

“What?” he hissed and narrowed his eyes, hands placed on his hips. He was trying to be threatening, scowling intensely but he was also a few inches shorter than Harry was so it didn’t work. Besides, Niall had the least threatening face and Harry was more annoyed than he might be, so he just chuckled and let his gaze slide over to the painting from before.

“So, what are we looking at here, Niall?” Harry asked, making sure to keep his voice low and levelled. He arched his eyebrows in question, feeling his lips turn up in amusement, the more Niall pretended to be angry. It just wasn’t working for him. “No, honestly. I cannot understand any of the stuff about the painting you were talking about. Besides, they look alike.”

There was a stark difference between each painting and even Harry could tell that. But the resultant gasp from his friend and his offended scowl was worth it. He chuckled, making Niall narrow his eyes as he grabbed Harry’s elbow roughly. “Listen here, Harry Edward, I did not bring you here to act like this and insult art and in turn, me. I taught you better than that. So you need to respect art.”

“Stop pretending I’m your child. Also, I would understand all of this if I understood the point of art.”

“The point of –” Niall cut himself off to inhale harshly, making Harry burst into pleased giggles. Niall had caught on quite late to the fact that Harry was purposely riling him and hence, was doing calming exercises to not break into a rant. Harry kept grinning cheekily as he pushed a strand curl off his forehead. This was fun now. “It’s fine, I’m fine because you don’t bother me, Styles. But that’s not the point. The point is, stop looking annoyed and bored and try to look as if you’re having fun. If anyone finds out that we know each other, it would damage my reputation.”

“Well, Ni, I am annoyed and bored,” Harry deadpanned and rolled his eyes. Niall’s eyes widened as he looked beside him to check if anyone had heard and Harry rolled his eyes again. Who cared about what anyone thought, right?

“Also, it’s your fault that I’m here at all. You know firsthand how much I dislike all this. That wall over there looks enticing but it seems like forever until we’ll get there. This one is a confusing mix of ‘vibrant colours’ and ‘smooth brushstrokes’ and just give me a break. I love photography and I love vintage art. I love art that paints a picture at the first glance rather than having you question the meaning of life itself. The simple kind. This strange combination of paint and geometry goes over my head. What is its worth anyway?”

“Well, some bids do go up to millions but what’s it worth huh,” Niall intoned, eyes sparkling in delight when Harry’s jaw dropped. He smirked when Harry said nothing. “Well yeah, I don’t lie. It’s a famous artist, so what did you expect? When people have money, they bid like crazy. Why do you think Mrs. Fields called me out here on a Friday night? Surely she has a lot of parties to attend to but she chose this event to show up to. I asked you to join me because you’re my best friend and I hate to see you not living your best. Besides, your life is pitiful and I cannot take another Sunday morning sad rant while I’m nursing a hangover.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted to spend my Friday evening looking at expensive art I can’t even buy,” Harry objected, voice gaining volume and hence, attracting attention. He was thrown a few disgruntled looks. Sure Harry might be kind of insulting the people who were choosing to spend their evening looking at expensive art they couldn’t afford but then, he didn’t mean to. They could keep those glances. It was a pretty judgemental batch of people, for those who loved contemporary art of all things. Harry would call himself a piece of art that they were insulting. His body and tattoos were worth appreciation too, if he said so himself. Niall snorted when he voiced it and that was just rude. Harry sniffed, insulted.

“Okay Niall, I do appreciate your good intentions but I still can’t stay here long. If I have a few more glasses of champagne, I’d be tempted to crawl my way home and you know how bad I am at navigation. Besides, I’m used to moping around and sitting on my arse. I could be re-watching the latest season of Queer Eye right now.”

“Yeah, like I said, your life is just sad.”

“Didn’t you say my life is pitiful?” Harry reworded.

“Sure Harry, pitiful. But does that make your life sound any better?” Niall raised his eyebrows, looking done with the conversation and Harry deflated, yet made a tiny sound of disagreement. He couldn’t really protest this. Niall must feel sorry for him again so he patted Harry’s shoulder with a comforting smile.

“Fine, Hazza, I’ll try to finish my commitment as soon as I can because I love you. Then we can go to the pub and do some fun stuff. Until then, look somewhat happy. Don’t talk to anyone unless you have to. If you do talk, use long, pretentious words and hold yourself as if you belong here. Maybe copy the words I used earlier, all right?”

Harry made a show of sighing and looking defeated before he muttered, “Fine by me.”

“That’s good. Now shoo and don’t mind. Don’t drink too much of the fancy champagne and eat cupcakes maybe. Also, pretend like we don’t know each other.” Niall looked stern for all of a minute, before winking and patting Harry’s shoulder. He turned on his heel and staggered away towards where Mrs. Fields stood, a wide smile already in place. Harry frowned after him, planning choice words he intended to say, when they were alone before grabbing a glass of champagne and glaring over its rim. He chose to retreat to a corner soon after, having enough of the pointed looks thrown his way and just sulk until he could leave. He might deserve a few of the looks thrown at him because he snorted under his breath at some comments people made. But then, wasn’t this place supposed to be a place of expression? Well, no one let Harry express himself in peace; neither appreciated his excellent fashion taste nor let his disdain for pretentious description slide. There was no freedom of expression.

Harry stood in the far corner of the main room, sipping slowly on his champagne as he judged people from the (figurative) shadows, watching them. It was his favorite pastime because that’s what one did when they were awkward with small talk and tended to avoid large group of people. He planned to make his drink last a while, because it was his fourth one yet and he could feel the alcohol in his bloodstream already. But more than that, he would have to wade through a circle of snooty people to get to another glass of champagne and he was in no mood.

He excelled in deep conversations, was wise like that, but he would love to skip that awkward, doubtful ‘getting to know each other’ phase and jump right into the ‘tell me your childhood traumas’ part. There was a reason Niall warned him off talking to someone. It wasn’t as if Harry had planned to approach anyone on his own anyway, aware that most people in this room wouldn’t have one common hobby with him. Hence, observing it was, throwing pointed looks at Niall’s back and praying time would pass quicker. He tried to catch a few words and shook his head in amusement but then even that lasted for just ten minutes, before he was bored off his mind. They were all the same, in his head and all were projecting false images which Harry wasn’t a fan of.

Harry’s glass was empty again, making him place it on a random table, fishing out his phone instead to text Liam. There’s was a fifty percent chance that he would respond, but then Harry was capable of holding conversations with himself. Yeah, his life was pitiful, he agreed with Niall finally, in his head though, of course.

**Liaaaaam, I hate Niall.**

**Who cares about feelings and expression of geometric shapes and colours when people could care about my feelings? I’m important too!**

**I wish Niall had taken me to a photography exhibition instead. I would even tolerate something about inanimate objects or living things. I need help.**

**Also, everyone is glaring at me. I’m innocent.**

**They just can’t appreciate the beauty of sheer shirts. This is Gucci too. They should know.**

**I’m bored. Are you reading this?**

Harry stared at his phone for five minutes, waiting for a response before giving up. He scrolled through instagram for a while but nothing caught his fancy. He sighed deeply, glancing up for a second before looking at his phone again then blinked.

Wait a second...

Harry’s head snapped up quickly and he did a double take because this guy surely hadn’t been there the last time Harry had checked the place. No, this person was new and beautiful and different and Harry was pretty sure he was openly gaping at him. But he couldn’t help it. The guy was fit, beautiful and a bloody freaking masterpiece just standing idly without a care in the world. He was just Harry’s type from a distance, what could he say. The bloke was clad in the tightest of jeans that hugged and showcased his curves in the best possible way. He was wearing a light blue jean jacket atop a plain white shirt, which was such a casual outfit yet he managed to look extraordinary in it. He was the only one who was close to Harry’s age and didn’t look like a hipster or standing in a group. He looked like a regular guy. Or a hot guy with messy hair falling over his eyes beautifully that he kept fixing daintily every few minutes, hip cocked to a side while radiating an aura of confidence. He stuck out like Harry did, garnering attention as well but it was the good form of attention. Everyone was gazing at him, admiring him with a smile before they looked away. The guy had a hint of a smile on his lips, cigarette tucked behind his ear and he watched everyone with iridescent blue eyes that shone from a distance. Harry felt drawn to him, felt the urge to go up to him and just talk. But then, he remembered who he was. Of course he wasn’t good at small talks and tended to make a fool out of himself. He would probably say the wrong thing, leave a bad impression and would have to run out onto the street and crawl his way back home. Then Niall would never let him go for that. Niall, who wasn’t paying any attention to Harry whatsoever still, and had advised him strictly to not talk to anyone. He sighed once more, frowning at his phone.  

**Liam! There’s a new, hot guy here and I’m nervous.**

_Why are you nervous?_

Harry’s frown deepened immediately. Liam’s response had been fairly quick, coming through in a matter of seconds. It made him wonder if Liam had been purposely ignoring his previous messages but that wasn’t the problem right now, so he didn’t linger. He needed to keep Liam with him, else he’d be tempted to go up to the guy and that would not end up good.

**Because he’s hot and I’m a mess. You know what happens when I try to talk to attractive people, right?**

_Oh yeah you say ridiculous things and laugh like a horse._

**Can horses laugh?**

_Probably. I haven’t been near one. But if they did laugh, they would laugh like you._

**Thanks Liam that was so nice of you. Really.**

**But still, what do I do? Should I just... talk to him? Take a chance?**

_Do it at your own risk, Harry. I don’t have to tell you how much shit you talk generally. And I love you so I don’t want you to embarrass yourself._

**Thanks Liam, again. But I think I should still go and talk to him. What would I lose, huh? My confidence is already very low. Even if my self esteem is high. Is that possible?**

**Oh well. I’m going in.**

_I’ll be praying for you! Xx_

Harry didn’t reply, looking up slowly and frowning when he realised the boy wasn’t where he was stood a few minutes ago. He had disappeared altogether. It was slightly disappointing, making him wonder if he had dreamt him up. He let his gaze sweep the room, finding him quickly in front of a painting. Oh, so he was here because he loved contemporary art too. No worries. Maybe Harry could pretend to like this too and impress him. He had learnt a few words. But he could also be brave and admit he didn’t like this art form. It was a conflict and the only solution would be more champagne, so he grabbed a glass on his way towards the boy. He took a big gulp out of it and braced himself. Harry just stood beside him, feeling his anxiety gnaw at him and the nervous energy thrumming through him. His heart was beating loud enough to drown out every other sound and he kept his eyes strictly on the painting in front of him. He glanced at the boy beside him, lips parting but no sound came out. He wasn’t sure what he would say really. Sure, he could just say ‘hey’ but then that was boring, wasn’t it? He should say something catchy, something that would impress him. But there were too many people around and it made Harry more nervous. So he looked ahead, blinking furiously before taking in a deep breath and looking beside him again. It was just his bad luck that the guy was walking away towards the next painting, making Harry frown and hurry after him. Stupid stupid.

Harry didn’t speak but he still followed him to the third painting, feeling the embarrassment on his face clear as day. They were through to the small corridor like place, which was separated from the main hall and was secluded. It was just the two of them and Harry told himself he could do this. He could speak. He fiddled with his bow timidly, while the beautiful guy just looked at the painting, radiating confidence. So, Harry looked at the painting as well, filled with regret due to missed chances of conversations.

The painting ahead of him was also filled with a bunch of geometric shapes but instead of merging into one, they formed a bigger geometric figure. There was a bright splatter of colour throughout and it was eye-catchingly bright, but there was something peaceful about it. Harry would buy this if he had enough money. The painting also reminded him of the guy beside him, just he was more beautiful to watch. So Harry peeked at him from the corner of his eye again, finger tapping the empty champagne flute and the other hand pulling on his hair. As he watched, there was a smile forming on the other man’s lips.

“Are you going to keep staring and following me or are you going to speak?” the bloke asked, eyes resting on Harry’s face as he cocked an eyebrow. Harry gasped, clutching his chest as he stared a little more openly. The man’s voice was higher than Harry had expected, a raspy quality to it and contained a sharp accent. It was almost musical, that one sentence, which made Harry’s heart pick its pace. Harry’s lips parted and he willed his words to spill through but they were stuck in his throat and he felt his cheeks burn. The other boy kept watching though, amusement glinting in his cerulean blue eyes and he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Ah, so you’re one of those shy kinds. Should have guessed.”

“I don’t understand art but you look like a masterpiece,” Harry blurted, surprising himself and the other boy. He squeaked, slapping his palms over his face quickly and blushed more. His eyes were wide and he was unable to look away. The boy did nothing but smile indulgently, once his surprise faded. Harry felt jittery inside, as if his knees would buckle and give away any second now. He laughed, sounding maniacal and he felt crazy.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. But I really don’t understand contemporary art. Not like it’s bad but I don’t get it. It’s random, it’s quirky and without a theme and did I say, it’s random? Ha. Also I didn’t know you noticed me.”

“Well, it would be hard not to notice you, mate,” the boy continued, laughing to himself and not sounding bothered. He sounded just as amused as he looked, fingers unwittingly fiddling with his hair and patting it into place even if nothing was amiss. Harry’s eyes followed the motion and he felt himself calm, now that the boy wasn’t yelling or anything. The beautiful stranger should consider making a career in audio books really, because Harry would buy ten of them irrespective of what he spoke. “You’re tall and have a very intense stare, if you aren’t aware of it yet. I kept walking purposely and you kept following, so I was clued in. Besides, even I don’t understand these paintings. I’m here as a casual observer.” He winked and laughed, making Harry laugh along even as if he felt breathless.

“Dragged here by someone?” Harry asked, arching both his eyebrows because he was incapable of raising just one. He would love to, since it seemed cool and in his head, he felt as if he raised just one. But they always rose together because he was painfully normal. The bloke raised just one eyebrow since he was that perfect, looking on questioningly. Right, Harry hadn’t explained himself.

“I mean my friend dragged me here and  right then abandoned me. So I’m just sort of lost. I don’t even know who the artist is. So that's why I asked you that, wondering if we’re in the same situation.”

“Oh like that.” he nodded in understanding, lip curling up. He averted his gaze, staring at the painting while Harry kept watching his perfect side profile. “I wouldn’t say I was dragged here but kind of yeah, was dragged. There would have been dire consequences I was told if I didn’t show up and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Oh really?” Harry asked rhetorically and hummed. He did have questions and subsequent jokes lined up but if he voiced them, he might get laughed at. So he said nothing, watching the boy intently for the next couple of seconds. “You look so confident here while I look like a lost puppy.”

“I look confident?” he asked, looking straight into Harry’s eyes as he tilted his head to a side. Harry shrugged, biting his lip and didn’t look away. “That's nice to know. But you look pretty confident as well. The outfit you’re wearing is difficult to pull off but you manage to look perfect. By the way, is that shirt see-through? And is that a giant butterfly on your stomach?”

Harry flushed at the words, ducking his head. The beautiful stranger was staring at Harry’s torso, eyes raking up and down slowly and making a shiver run down his spine. This form of appreciation was exactly what Harry had expected from the night; the flattering words, the lingering gazes. Yet, he found himself at a loss of words, playing with the longer curls uselessly and curling his toes inside his boots. He looked up through his lashes, finding the other smiling as if he was endeared. “Yeah, it is sheer but just under the right lights. And it’s a moth, really, even though I wanted a butterfly. It was supposed to be a pun but, well you know.”

“Cute,” was the only reply he got along with another wink. He was being flirted with, Harry was sure and he preened, feeling a little more confident than before. If this beautiful angel was flirting with him then he had a chance. Maybe approaching him wouldn’t be the worst of his decisions in life. “So, shall we take a tour of the place for fun, anyway?”

“Hmm, well I have to wait for my friend to be done anyway, so why not.” Harry smiled genuinely, so wide that his dimples popped out. His stomach swooped delightedly when he received an equally bright smile in return. The other man stuffed his hands inside his jacket pockets and Harry’s grip tightened around his glass. They hadn’t exchanged names yet. He would need a name for that pretty face before he decided to call him ‘pretty boy’ out loud. That would be embarrassing, right? “My name is Harry. And you are?”

“Louis,” the boy supplied, crinkles forming by his eyes and he tilted his head to a side to indicate that they should start walking. Harry fell in step beside him immediately and his heart skipped a beat as their arms brushed for just a second. Louis was a pretty name; pretty name for the pretty boy. They passed someone carrying a tray of champagne as they made their way out to the main room and he wondered if he should grab himself another glass of champagne. But Louis showed no sign of drinking so Harry decided against drinking, placing his empty glass on the tray and walking ahead instead. If he was to get any further tipsy, he would say stupider things than now. So better not make a fool of himself, since he was managing just fine right now, embarrassing one-liner greeting aside. They walked side by side in relative silence, with Harry refusing to speak first and say something nonsensical. Louis kept shooting him quick glances, lips quirked up permanently as if he found Harry’s mere presence amusing. He didn’t say anything as well, flicking his fringe to the side once every few minutes. It wasn’t until the third painting they passed that Louis finally spoke up. There were three small canvases side by side, with the design that broke off on one and continued on the other. It was a beautiful design, darker shades and void of geometric shapes. One of the rare ones. “You know, Harry, one of my friends in an artist.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, letting out a breathy giggle as the silence between them broke. Louis’s eyes were glimmering as he nodded, eyebrows rising subsequently. “Is he any good? Or just meh?”

Louis giggled as well, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he nodded. “He is good. He works mostly with charcoal; sometimes spray paints graffiti. He likes doing portraits and nature drawings, mostly. He was supposed to accompany me here today but a client turned up at the last minute and he stayed. Lucky him, really. Oh and we own a tattoo parlour together. Don’t think of something else.”

Harry snorted reflexively, turning pink immediately. Then the words sank in. Louis was a tattoo artist. So he must have tattoos as well, except the one he had on his fingers and the one that peeked through the sleeves of his jacket. His stomach swooped with excitement at the knowledge and he leaned in. “I have tattoos.”

“That I can see, Harold,” Louis commented as he stared pointedly at Harry’s semi-exposed stomach and arms. Oh right, sheer shirt which displayed his tattoos. He had almost forgotten about that. Louis’ eyes were filled with delight, much more than the general amusement they contained and his eyebrow rose of their own accord. He almost looked fond. “I like tattoos as well, if we’re both stating the obvious here.”

“Hey!” Harry protested with a huge grin on his face that threatened to split his face in half. He liked that Louis was comfortable enough to tease him already. It made Harry feel at ease, shoulders no longer tense and cheeks tinged pink due to laughter. He carded his fingers through his hair and ducked his head. He could feel the multiple pair of eyes on him but they didn’t bother him like before. They were stood in the more crowded part of the gallery, arms brushing slightly as they huddled close. Louis was good company and Harry felt more shy than usual. “I like photography. And like your friend, I love capturing the beauty of nature and of people. It’s so wholesome to capture the slightest of moments which people usually ignore because they’re busy getting to somewhere. It gives me a whole other type of joy that I can’t express. I can’t draw for shit though, except for random shitty doodles that look nothing like I planned to make. But my friend, Liam, one of my friends, can draw. He’s very humble about it but he’s good at drawing not so complicated stuff if he focuses enough. I’m envious.”

“Huh, maybe we should set our friends up,” Louis said quietly and laughed, looking at Harry from the corner of his eyes. “I’m obviously joking, you know, but then, my friend is good looking, bi and single.”

“My friend is bi and single as well,” Harry whispered for some reason, smiling as if he had forgotten every other facial emotion. “They would be a good match, I guess. Obviously, we have good choice in people and they live to draw.”

“Right.” Louis nodded grimly, eyes darting towards the general direction of the entrance for just a minute. He was immediately distracted, eyes sweeping over the expanse of the room as if he was looking for someone specific and his eyebrows furrowed as he didn’t find them. Harry looked over as well, finding Niall’s brunet head quickly. He was still engaged in a conversation with Mrs. Fields, moving his hands to go with whatever he said. Harry wondered how long it would take for his friend to finish. But then he realised he didn’t care. For the first time since he had entered the gallery, he didn’t want to drag Niall outside and force him to leave along with Harry. He looked back at Louis, who, to his surprise, was staring back with an undecipherable expression. His eyebrows were pinched, eyes still containing that searching look but the lines on his forehead were smoothening over, giving way to a smile. It was breathtaking and Harry forgot his previous questions over Louis’s mood change and just smiled back. “Anyway, Harry, you didn’t tell me what it is that you do. Are you a photographer of some kind?”

“Oh I wish,” Harry said dreamily before snorting. “No, I’m actually a kindergarten teacher. I teach little kids to play and draw and all. Not that interesting actually.”

Louis cooed, clutching his chest with a fond, endeared smile. He wasn’t mocking him, to Harry’s surprise and genuinely looked endeared. His expression was soft that Harry found himself blushing furiously. “That’s adorable, Harry. I can totally see you teaching little kids to draw and paint. I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Thanks, Louis,” Harry replied and smiled. He was willing to take any and all compliments while Louis looked intent to shower them. He chewed on his lower lip, eyes fixed somewhere over Louis’ shoulder and he found Niall look towards him. His eyebrows were furrowed as he lifted his chin in question. He wiggled his eyebrows, obviously on to the fact that Harry was talking to a new person and wanted to know. Harry couldn’t exactly tell him from this far now, could he? So he shook his head, looking back into Louis’ eyes. “But tattoo artist, huh? You must tattoo me sometime.”

“You want me to tattoo you?” Louis asked, taken aback and yet hopeful. His eyes still held a calculative look, like he was trying to figure Harry out. But then, Harry was also doing the same. He had a rather roundabout way of talking, taking ages to get a point especially when he was nervous. So he was gathering the courage to ask Louis out or to at least get his number. The ‘getting tattooed’ thing was a way to get to the bigger point and he was getting there. But then. “I’d be glad to. But then I would need your number to book your appointment and all, you know.”

Okay then Louis was more direct it seemed. Thank god.

“Sure,’ Harry replied, a little too quickly but then he was too happy to be embarrassed about it. He fished his phone out of his pocket, seeing the multiple text notifications from Liam asking what had happened with the ‘fit guy’ as he called it. Harry swiped it away quickly and handed his phone to Louis to put his number. “Put your number in there,” he added rather uselessly.

Louis laughed as he accepted Harry’s phone that he was almost shoving in his face. His eyelashes fanned prettily over his cheekbones as he typed his number in. Harry grinned when he got his phone back, seeing the number was saved as _‘Louis :)’_ along with an artist palette emoji beside it. It was so cute that Harry had to scrunch his nose to tame his fond smile but he was pretty sure he was smiling wide enough anyway. He called Louis and it startled Louis a little before he composed himself. “And now you have my number too.”

Louis grinned, cheeks flushed as he nodded and hummed. They turned to watch the last painting in the row, keeping silent. “At least something good came out of coming here, huh?”

Harry hummed and nodded, feeling his heart flutter. He felt a surge of bravery due to Louis’ comment, feeling a little stupid as he said what he planned to for the past few minutes. “I just wanted to ask you something though.”

“Ask away.”

“Is your mother an artist? Because you just might be the finest piece of art in this room.”

And then Harry was greeted with silence, as much silence as he could get in a room full of people. He turned nervously towards Louis, finding him looking back in shock. His lips were parted, eyebrows raised high and it might be the first time since they had met that Louis didn’t exactly look ‘amused’. Harry suddenly doubted himself, thinking back over their whole conversation and wondering if this wasn’t flirting as he thought after all. It was the first time he had used a cheesy pickup line in his twenties. Maybe he shouldn’t have.

“Oh fuck,” Harry groaned, voice loud enough to be carried over to a middle-aged couple who shot him an offended look. He couldn’t care less about that. There was an unknown expression swimming in Louis’ eyes and Harry felt the need to flee like he always did when things got too awkward to diffuse. He was ready to launch into an apology but then he realised Louis was pressing his lips together, not in anger but in an attempt to hold in his laughter. As Harry kept watching, the other man’s face lit up with the amusement again. He let out a groan, appreciating Louis’ effort to not make Harry feel more embarrassed but the deed was done. But then, Louis burst into quiet giggles that he stifled on the back of his hand as he shook his head.

“Harry, my mother actually is an artist.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, wincing a little as he made sure to not look away. Eye contact was important, knowing what Louis would say was important. But the man still didn’t look angry or repulsed. He was smiling mysteriously and it was vexing Harry further. “Is she then?”

“She really is,” Louis agreed with a nod. To his surprise, Louis placed his palm on Harry’s shoulder to steer him towards the general direction of art lovers. Harry let himself be moved without any hesitation, even if he was confused as to why he was being turned around. He was also feeling overwhelmed because Louis’s hand was on the thin material of his blouse and the warmth was seeping into his skin. “See that woman over there in the middle of that group with brown hair and wearing a long, black evening gown? Well that's me mum. And all of these paintings are done by her.”

Harry spluttered as he took in the information. He glanced over at Louis in confusion, sure his leg was being pulled but then he looked back over at the woman and noticed the similar features. She was being crowded, no doubt talking about her paintings. If she was the artist then... was Louis the son of the famous artist whose painting style Harry had somewhat insulted? Oh no! Oh no, no, no. “Oh fucking no.”

Harry buried his face in his palms, feeling Louis’s grip tighten around his shoulder in consolation. He couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. Thinking back, it would explain Louis’ amusement and his cryptic statement about how he was here. Harry knew Louis wasn’t offended by his words because his face was pretty telling about what he did think. Besides, he was trying to console Harry now. No, Harry was rather worried about what would happen when he would be introduced as Louis’s boyfriend to his mum. His mind had raced into the far future when he didn’t even know if the two of them were compatible but it was just how he was. Harry had finally managed to embarrass himself pretty hard, even if he had previously thought he was doing well. Fuck.

“Oh come on, Harry cheer up,” Louis said and Harry couldn’t help but smile at how cutely Louis pronounced ‘up’ in his cute Yorkshire accent. Louis shook Harry, jostling him and almost making him trip because his feet were just that unsteady. “Harry. You don’t always have to like art, it’s all right. I promise, I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t understand either. It’s alright, babe.”

Harry’s brain short-circuited. Louis called him _babe_! It was the only coherent thought in his head and his head snapped up to look Louis in the eyes, cheeks aflame and eyes delighted. His heart did a hopeful flutter but then his brain reminded him what an embarrassing disaster he was. “I told you I dislike your mother’s paintings though. Doesn’t it give you a very bad impression of me? I swear I don’t go up to people and discredit someone’s work. I’m not that bitchy.”

“I didn’t think you were bitchy,” Louis replied immediately, voice soothing and eyes soft. Harry snapped out of his self-deprecating state for just a few seconds, busy being mesmerised by the slow flutter of Louis’ rather long eyelashes. He really was pretty from up close; faint freckles on his nose along with extremely beautiful shade of his eyes. With a jolt, he realised they were standing way too close but Louis wasn’t making any moves to step back. He just squeezed his shoulder and smiled. “I thought you were really cute when you were blushing and trying to be discreet. Also brave. Who else would dare tell a stranger that they don’t like something that is the only thing people in this room love? But seriously, you were so adorable following me with that floundering look and pretending you weren’t following me.”

“But your mum would hate me,” Harry said quietly. He wasn’t going to say that but the words sort of slipped out. He was really thinking about what Louis had said. Louis thought he was brave and cute and adorable. It was an upgrade from what Harry thought of himself, which was plain awkward and stupid. He liked the nice take on that. “You really thought I was cute?”

“Of course I did, Curly,” Louis assured and giggled. His cheeks had taken on a shade of pink as he shook his head. He let go of Harry’s shoulder, which was such a shame but then his fingers pinched Harry’s cheeks. He preened under the attention, elated at being called cute. That was what he aimed at. Sure, ‘sexy’ would have been great but then, cuteness was what he excelled at. Dimples and curly hair made him that way. “You’re a piece of art yourself.”

“Marry me,” Harry blurted out immediately, mainly because that was the one thing he wanted to hear all night. And now that Louis had called him a ‘piece of art’, his brain to mouth filter had broken. He slapped his palms immediately over his mouth and could feel himself going a shade of red.

Louis, once again, looked fond and endeared and a little pink as well. He chuckled to himself instead of outright laughing at him and ducked his head. “Some might say it would be too early of me but I say yes, definitely I will.”

Harry wanted to dig himself a hole and then squeal for eternity. He found his soulmate in a place he didn’t want to be at. He would have to grudgingly thank Niall for that. He didn’t know what to say any further. But he didn’t have to because fortunately or unfortunately, Niall chose that exact moment to appear. He slapped Harry’s back and the noise startled the latter a lot, making Louis laugh. Of course he laughed.

“Hey Haz, I think we’re ready to go,” Niall announced while peering curiously at Louis. Harry looked at Louis, about to give them an introduction. “Oh hey Lou, I didn’t expect you to actually show up. Thought you’d skip out again.”

And _what?_

Niall laughed without a care while Harry just looked between them, confused as to how they did know each other so well. But neither of them was looking back, both grinning at each other and Harry pouted because he was feeling left out. He did not like being out of the loop.

“Yeah well, you know me mum,” Louis commented once he had calmed down and set Niall off in a fit of laughter again. Louis’s eyes finally landed on Harry again as he beamed, winking. “But I did get to meet Harry here, so I’m glad I did agree.”

“I dragged him out here as well. If left to his own devices, he would watch the same sappy movies again and cry because he’s still single.” Niall laughed but winced when his friend jabbed his side. He looked confused, rubbing his ribs and looked at Harry, until his eyes flickered with recognition. The hurt from before vanishes as he started grinning, eyes darting between Harry and Louis. “Ah, I see. Harry is single, by the way, but so are you, aren’t you Louis?”

“Niall!” Harry hissed as he tried to pinch Niall’s arm but the latter scurried out of reach quickly. He winked obnoxiously, as if he was pleased with himself and honestly, Harry wanted to punch him just for that. He looked at Louis, finding the lad a nice shade of pink but smiling still.

“Well lads,” Louis started, clapping his hands. Harry was quick to smile at him, the glare from before melting away. Louis looked pretty under the lights, he had to say. “Since Harry is leaving, I guess, I will too. No use staying anymore, huh? I just need to talk to my mum real quick, else, she wouldn’t believe I was here. Be right back.”

He reached out to pat Harry’s bicep three times with a radiant grin before he excused himself. He swaggered towards the lady he had pointed at before and Harry watched him leave, eyes fixated on the way his hips swayed. He was pretty sure he was walking like that on purpose but Harry wasn’t complaining. He looked away when Niall punched him arm.

“Ow,” Harry grumbled as he punched Niall right back. The boy just laughed as if it was the funniest thing and shook his head. “What was that for?”

“That was the physical form of ‘I told you so’,” Niall answered and winked. He placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. “You’re welcome, by the way. I knew that this place would do you good.”

“But you didn’t even know then if Louis was coming,” Harry countered, waggling an accusing finger at him. His eyebrows drew together. “Besides, how do you even know Louis? And why didn’t I know you knew Louis?”

“Well, I’ve known him for five months now,” Niall started, scratching his chin thoughtfully while Harry narrowed his eyes. Five months. Right. And no courtesy to introduce him to Harry, knowing he was just his type. Great friend he had there. “And I didn’t think you cared. But I should have seen how perfect the two of you are. Tattoo enthusiasts who love kids and are just losers pretending to be cool. I know for a fact that Louis also spends a lot time crying over romcoms like you do. I should have set the two of you up.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh, and did you know that he doesn’t like art shows either? Even if his mother is the most famous artist currently?”

“I do know, yes,” Harry said plaintively. He looked over at Louis, who was chatting merrily with his mother and smiled. “The first thing I told him was that I didn’t like the paintings on the walls.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, right after I followed him around.”

“Harry! What the fuck?”

“I know,” Harry whined, eyes pleading and bottom lip jutted out. Niall looked frustrated, shaking his head. “I know, alright. You were right, I shouldn’t have approached him.”

“You approached him?” Niall asked slowly, as if talking to a child. Harry nodded, feeling like someone who was about to be scolded. “Gosh, I tell you one thing that you are not to do and you go and do just that. Come on, Haz! You’re lucky he’s still smitten by you. By the way, did I tell you he’s smitten? He’s looking at you right now.”

“Where?” Harry asked, looking back at where Louis stood and sure enough, he was looking back with a playful smile. Harry looked back at Niall, feeling horrified and pleased at once. “Fuck. He was, wasn’t he? I’m such a mess.”

“You are,” Niall said, not even trying to argue about it like any good friend would. In conclusion, again, he was a bad friend. “Also, stay calm, because he’s coming back now and he’s definitely checking you out.”

“Is he?” Harry squealed, heart racing as he looked at Louis and sure enough, he was giving him an onceover, winking shamelessly when caught. Louis flicked his fringe to a side and grinned, raising his eyebrows. “Hi, Louis.”

“Hi, yourself,” he replied and laughed. “So, are we ready to head out?”

“Sure, just give me a minute,” Niall said and Harry frowned at him. Niall grinned and winked obviously. “Actually Louis, you and Harry can head out. I’ll meet you near the car, Haz. Is that alright with you?”

“No problem for me,” Louis said and nodded while Harry stared at his friend in confusion. He took out his phone again and found a lot of new, unread texts from Liam brimming with curiosity and worry. Harry ignored reading them in favour of texting him his current feelings.

**Fuck. Niall is a complete wanker.**

**But Louis in a complete angel!**

_‘Who’s Louis?’_ Popped up almost immediately but Harry ignored it. Mainly because Louis was tapping his shoulder and calling for his attention.

“So, shall we?” he asked, eyebrows raised in question and Harry nodded. His phone buzzed once more in his hand but he pocketed it instead. He was being a little bit of a dick ignoring Liam like that but he would understand him when he explained it later on. He would even agree that Harry took the best decision. Probably. Harry followed Louis towards the exit, tripping only once on the way and it was pure luck that Louis didn’t notice. He didn’t know where Niall had disappeared off to and he chose not to wonder why he ran away like that. But Harry liked being alone with Louis. That might be Niall’s plan too. Harry was deep in thought and accidentally ran into Louis because he didn’t notice the latter had stopped. Louis’s hands gripped Harry’s arm to stable him and he was much stronger than he looked, because he was basically holding Harry up at that point. Harry grabbed on to Louis’ arms as well, feeling the strong muscle underneath his jacket and wanted to gasp. He didn’t think Louis would be as built as he was. He also didn’t realise until right then that Louis was a few inches shorter than Harry was. The way he held himself, the confidence he carried, made him look much bigger than he was and Harry wanted to swoon.

“Oops, sorry Louis,” Harry whispered as he let go of Louis. Louis’ hands let go of him too after checking once if he was indeed stable on his feet. Harry wrapped his arms around himself, feeling a little cold without the warmth radiating from Louis. It was silly because the air around them was warm. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling shy and kept his eyes on his feet. He was standing a little pigeon toed, toes pointing inwards while Louis’s legs were wide apart. The difference was stark.

“It’s not a problem, Harry. It happens.” Louis laughed quietly before he shoved his hands in his pockets. Harry could hear the jingling of keys and looked up through his lashes, finding Louis holding a bunch of keys now. “But this is my ride home.”

Harry frowned and looked beside him, feeling speechless all of a sudden. His mind was a jumble of thoughts that basically screamed ‘what the fuck’ but even that couldn’t encompass what he really felt. Louis’s ‘ride’ was actually a sleek, shiny motorcycle that was parked beside them. Harry felt breathless the more he stared at it, feeling just a little turned on because fuck, Louis rode a motorcycle. Louis wasn’t paying him any heed, busy unlocking the cable and picking up his helmet. His fingers were splayed over it, looking tiny even though nothing about Louis was tiny really. Harry looked up and stared at Louis instead, seeing him in a whole new light. Sure he knew Louis was fit before but now his mind kept screaming ‘ _hot-hot-hot’_. “You ride a motorcycle?”

Harry’s voice was more of a squeak and even Louis must have heard the pure wonder and breathlessness behind it. Yet he just patted his bike with a smug smile. “Yup I do.”

“Oh.”

“I would offer to drop you off but now Niall is waiting for you so,” Louis trailed off, looking back at Harry with something akin to disappointment on his face. He shrugged, and looked away while Harry blinked dumbly at him. Vivid images of Louis straddling a bike popped up in his head, along with Harry sitting behind him with his arms wrapped around Louis as they drove through the countryside. Riding through the city was just as fine really. He resented Niall for showing up. Harry could be riding a bike with Louis tonight. His luck was just that bad. Harry blinked furiously, realising he was still gaping while Louis looked on amusedly. That seemed to be their whole dynamic really. But who could blame Harry. Each time he composed himself, Louis dropped a new surprise on him. It was unfair. He wanted to know about Louis and be blown away by it all. It was his new dream. “Next time, though, surely. You like riding a bike, Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s hot,” Harry replied without thinking it through. He winced immediately, heart beating loudly in his chest. He just couldn’t keep any thoughts to himself now, could he? He had to say that. “I mean bikes are cool, yeah.”

Louis laughed, eyes crinkling as he wiggled his eyebrows. “Make up your mind, Harold, which one is it?”

“I don’t know,” Harry squeaked, not feeling particularly proud of what sound his mouth was making. Louis looked fond though, head tilted to the side and he looked so kissable. Harry needed to leave before he did something forward like cupping Louis’ face and kissing him on the mouth. “I should go.”

“Sure, but first, I wanted to ask you if you would like to go to dinner with me?” Louis asked, sounding nervous and hopefully for the first time. Harry was taken aback. Sure, he knew his chances to date Louis weren’t completely blown. But he expected there to be a lot more time before they went on a date. Harry was already flustered but now he was left giddy, nodding hurriedly before turning on his heel and walking away. He was fairly sure that was where Niall’s car was parked. Halfway through he realised he hadn’t verbally answered Louis and he smacked his forehead, drawing to a halt. It would be embarrassing to go all the way back so he decided to text instead.

**It’s a yes by the way!**

**For the date.**

Harry smiled smugly. Louis was standing and watching Harry leave probably because the response was quick. Too quick.

_That’s great Harry! Looking forward to it._

_We could wait for the next Friday, or we could just go out on Tuesday instead?_

**Tuesday please. I want to see you again soon.**

_I’m glad that it’s mutual xx_

**Me too.**

Harry turned around and sure enough, he could see the faint outline of Louis standing beside his bike. The light from his phone was lighting up his face and Harry could spot a smile. As if feeling his eyes on him, Louis looked up as well and gave him a thumbs-up. Harry returned the gesture, feeling like he was on cloud nine. He giggled to himself as if he was in one of those cheesy rom coms he watched and loved. Finally. And when he did reach Niall’s car, busy thinking about their date already, he found his friend leaning on his car with a teasing smirk.

“Someone looks happy.”

“Shut up, Niall,” Harry grumbled without wiping his smile off first. He shoved Niall’s shoulder before walking around to sit in the passenger’s seat. He could still spot Louis, now straddling his bike and Harry gasped. Niall’s loud cackle shook Harry out of his stare and he turned to glare instead. “Don’t laugh even. I know why you walked away. You knew he rode a bike, didn’t you?”

“Well, he also has a car,” Niall commented as he started his own car. He grinned cheekily at Harry. “But I was half sure he would bring the bike today and I was right. You’re welcome, once again.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t be so cross, Haz, I did you a favour.” Niall waggled his finger even as he pulled onto the street. Harry huffed in disagreement as he crossed his arms, eyes on the lookout for Louis and his bike. He had heard the hum of his bike before and knew he would be long gone by now, yet he couldn’t help it. He was still annoyed at Niall, so he decided to answer Liam’s texts instead of speaking. He giggled when he saw the array of new texts from Liam.

_Harry, tell me you’re not ignoring me right now._

_I trudged through your complaints bravely and I don’t even get the good part? Unfair!_

_Don’t leave me on a cliffhanger, you wanker! I’ll trouble Niall, I guess._

_Wait, you’ve found yourself a guy with a bike? Isn’t that your wet dream?_

**‘Yes it is,’** Harry sent, grinning at the screen. **‘But he’s such a great guy you don’t even know.’**

**He’s hot, he’s funny and he gets these cute crinkles by his eyes.**

**He is a tattoo artist and called me cute too.**

**We have a date on Tuesday!**

_Wow! I’m glad I patiently waited for that update because I’m so happy for you, Harry! You deserve this._

_Even if I do hate you a little for making me so invested in this. I was checking my phone every few seconds._

_I need to meet this Louis guy soon. For all the pain you’ve caused me._

“What's so funny?” Niall asked as he tried to peek into Harry’s phone. Harry shook his head, continuing to laugh as he hid his phone. Niall frowned due to being left out and Harry enjoyed his friend’s dejection. That’s what he deserved. “Are you texting Louis already? Tell me!”

Harry didn’t agree or disagree with Niall’s query, just laughed as he texted Liam and relayed the whole conversation with Louis. Liam called him lucky at the end because _‘no one would have been able to save that conversation opener’_. And he wasn’t wrong really. Niall took the unanimous decision to skip pub in favour of going to McDonald’s drive through and ordering them burgers for dinner. It would be better if Harry didn’t have more alcohol. He was sure if he had too many, he’d be waxing poems about Louis’ cheekbones and drunk texting him. Louis was endeared so far and Harry wouldn’t want to test that. Harry finally gave in and told Niall about his night with Louis, making him laugh and feel scandalised by what they did say about the art. He felt pretty good about himself though, as he changed out of his clothes into his bedtime clothes, which meant stripping down to his underwear really. He grinned at his rarely used third date outfit that was now laid out on the chair, glad that it had won him a date that would get to third base after all. He was thankful for it. The glittery sheer blouse never disappointed him. He was about to lie down when his phone buzzed signalling a new message and Harry grinned before he had even read it. It could only be one person.

_Harry, are you awake?_

**‘No,’** Harry texted back just to be silly and laughed when he got a reply.

_Ah sleep texting. I tend to do that. If I text with a ‘z’ instead of ‘x’ at the end, it means I’m sleep texting xx_

**So what does the ‘x’ mean? That you’re awake?**

_No. That I’m thinking of you._

Harry buried his head in his pillow and squealed, careful not to let Niall hear him. Walls were thin and all, besides Niall would tease him. And he liked to keep at least a little of his dignity for the night.

_That’s cheesy, isn’t it?_

**Well I happen to like cheesy so keep going.**

_Okay :)_

_So... what are you doing?_

**Planning to go to bed. What about you?**

_Well I’m sitting on the sofa with my dog, Clifford, on my lap and texting you._

_Now, don’t tell me you’re a cat person..._

**Ah no haha. I’m one of those rare people who love both cats and dogs equally.**

_Ah, good choice._

And then they talked about nothing and everything and Harry’s cheek hurt after an hour of texting. He had never been so happy. Louis was just as charming and funny over texts, reducing Harry to a giggly mess quickly and small talks never felt this easy. Harry also felt braver over texts than face to face, impressing Louis a little too.

_So, we are going out on Tuesday, aren’t we? X_

**Sure we are xx**

_All right then I can’t wait for Tuesday z_

**Asleep already? Goodnight Lou.**

_Goodnight H. zzz_

Harry went to sleep with a smile on his lips and woke up to a good morning text from Louis. He replied to it before turning around and squealing into his pillow. He couldn’t believe he found the most perfect person that liked him back. He couldn’t ask for better. Tuesday couldn’t come early.

And when Harry met Louis’ mum three months later for Christmas, he had almost forgotten how awkward Harry and Louis’ first conversation was. But he was reminded of it soon, when Jay hugged him. The first ever thing she said to him was how glad she was that she was finally meeting the man who called Louis her finest masterpiece. And Harry blushed, turning to glare and reprimand his boyfriend but he just couldn’t. Because Louis was looking adorable, giggling into the back of his hand. The little annoyance that Harry had immediately melted away and he leaned over to kiss him instead. It made Louis laugh, clutching Harry’s hand and Harry agreed with his past self. Louis was no less than a masterpiece and Harry called himself lucky enough to be his boyfriend.

 

\-- xx --

 

**Author's Note:**

> Who expected that? Hope you all enjoyed reading.  
> Again, so sorry for anyone offended by any mistakes.  
> This is inspired by [my own tweet](https://twitter.com/rainbowslovehl/status/1012084975448084483) that I had tweeted in complete jest before inspiration had struck and somehow managed to finish it months later.  
> As usual, kudos and comments are appreciated!  
> I'm on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/rainbowslovehl) come and say hi (oops!)  
> Rebloggable tumblr post is [ here ](http://rainbowsandlovehl.tumblr.com/post/178542571783/masterpiece-by-rainbowslovehl)


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